


supernova

by cheolhie (orphan_account)



Category: GOT7
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Drabble, Drinking, Heartbreak, Love, M/M, Markjin, Mild Smut, Oneshot, Poetry, Smoking, literally my fave work ever, please enjoy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-22
Updated: 2017-08-22
Packaged: 2018-12-18 14:44:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11876733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/cheolhie
Summary: "Nothing ever felt as good as Jinyoung, and nothing ever hurt as much as Jinyoung."





	supernova

**Author's Note:**

> This sucks ass but I dedicate my trashy work to my trashy friends who said Markjin was a good idea. No homo though.

Nothing ever felt as good as Jinyoung, and nothing ever hurt as much as Jinyoung. No cigarette between chewed lips or shot of warm vodka down raw throat could numb the ocean surging inside Mark’s veins. He came as a breeze and left as a storm, leaving the older males thoughts in disarray. He spent every waking moment plagued with Jinyoung's voice in his ears, the feeling of his skin against his skin, his lips against his neck. His silhouette burned itself into the back of his eyelids, every dip and curve of his shoulders and hips ingrained in his brain for as long as Mark would have breath in his lungs and a pulse at his wrist.

The sun had cast a shard of light onto Mark's desk on the morning he met Jinyoung. His seat near the open window provided a distraction, the breeze playing on his face and drying his lips as he watched students mill on the fields below. The seat next to him was soon occupied, a dark haired boy in round specs organising his pens into a neat line on his desk. He was new. Mark looked away.

It had taken a while. Mark discovered Jinyoung didn't like to talk, so he slid him notes instead. Messy handwriting scrawled on corners from his books or on pink sticky notes. That made Jinyoung smile. Mark liked to see Jinyoung smile. His lips tugged in a small curve and his cheeks rose slightly, lips in a thin line. He only ever smiled, never laughed. Mark sat in class thinking about what his laugh would be like. Jinyoung seemed like a spring person. Maybe his laugh sounded like spring. Maybe it bloomed flowers through melting snow and shone the sun through clouds.

It did bloom flowers. Beautiful bouquets in Mark's chest, roots and vines wrapping around his heart and lungs, squeezing so tight he couldn't breathe. He wanted to pick the flowers and give them to Jinyoung. He wanted to show the younger man how much he affected him. He was a simple star, and Jinyoung was a galaxy. A fucking galaxy of light and colour and all Mark wanted to do was get lost in the depths of it all. He wanted to get lost in Jinyoung and make his home in his infinite.

He realised he was in love a few months later. He realised over coffee. Jinyoung sipped at his drink and watched him over the rim of his cup. Mark watched him back. He admired his skin like honey and eyes like copper. He glowed and Mark was basking in it. They never spoke much over coffee. Mark preferred to lose himself in the galaxy and Jinyoung let him do so in silence. He would explode in a supernova one day but he never let on to the boy over the rim of his cup. Mark blinked. Jinyoung looked like he tasted like cinnamon and apples. He did, Mark found out.

They had been drinking. It was cheap alcohol from the corner store down the road, but Mark was still a lightweight and melted under Jinyoung's touch soon enough. He'd kissed at every inch of hot skin he could reach as the younger man ran his fingers down his sides and grabbed roughly at his hips. Rough enough to leave small bruises for Mark to admire come morning. Morning, when he woke alone facing an empty bed. But for now, they melted into one. Jinyoung's skin tasted like cinnamon as Mark thought, and he became addicted. And it became routine, for a galaxy of desire and lust to be branded on the inside of Mark's soft thighs over fading constellations.

Jinyoung never liked smoke. He was jealous of the lethal addiction Mark sucked at like a drug addict on morphine. He wanted to be Mark's life force and addiction, the drug he searched the corners of the earth for. He wanted to be in Mark's pocket and between his chapped lips just as a cigarette was. He stole away his pack of cheap cigarettes and forbid him from smoking. “It's dangerous, Mark. It'll kill you. Smoke again and I’ll leave you.” He'd made excuses. He knew that the cigarettes weren't nearly as lethal as their love. 

The destruction came soon enough.

It was mid December, as winter crept up, when the storm began rolling in. The flowers blooming in Mark’s chest were wilting under the icy ambience of Jinyoung’s fading love. The galaxy was crumbling, stars falling in on one another, and Mark watched it unfold. It was a quiet night, only punctured periodically by the faint noises of cars on the cold streets below. Mark’s body was hot and his chest was flushed as he had watched Jinyoung pull a shirt over his head. He realised long ago that this was only routine; the long, slow kisses were gone along with Jinyoung's feelings for him. He opened a lollipop from his side drawer. No cigarettes. 

“Do you still love me, Jinyoung?”

“Of course.” He had turned away. No love. Mark had felt nothing from him. He tried again, the oceans in his veins heaving and churning.

“Do you really, Park Jinyoung?”

“Why the fuck do you care?” He'd turned around, a cold, hard stare burning under his skin. Mark curled under his gaze.

The flowers in Mark's chest had lost their last petals as the poison laced in Jinyoung's words pierced his heart. Their roots drank up the venom. Suicide. Their love had been suicide and Mark had walked into it. He'd lost himself in a galaxy and awoken in a supernova. His world was crumbling. Jinyoung's infinite had ended and Mark had fallen backwards into a cold darkness.

“You're like a fucking storm, Jinyoung. You've ripped my foundations out and set my fucking thoughts askew! The skies are fucking dark where once clear. This isn't fucking love, how long has it been brewing?” Mark had lashed out. Jinyoung's love for him was gone, all that was left was a fading bruise on the side of Mark's neck and faint fingerprints on his hips. Jinyoung's fingerprints.

“So this is how I leave you. Your fucking storm, fading away, going off to torment someone else.” His eyes were flat. The stars were gone, covered by stormclouds. He tossed a lighter on the bed next to Mark.

“I told you I'd leave if you kept smoking. I'm leaving now, have that back.”

And Mark's storm was gone. The storm that had battered him for years, gone, leaving destruction and a half empty lighter without a box of fucking cigarettes.

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted this to be longer lol sorry not sorry smh


End file.
